


Go Home (Your Heart's Too Loud)

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of tears but they're of the hopeful kind..., Post-Canon, Season 6 Speculation (more headcanon tbh because jroth would NEVER), also the needed return of the bellamy & clarke's co-leadership, because it's what blarke deserves, can you hear the salt? good, this is the one where they have feelings and (gasp) TALK about them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 08:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: “The stars are different here,” he sighs once a few minutes have passed in silence, and she nods, finally looking at him as she manages a smile.Clarke points towards the night sky, to a very bright yet seemingly small star to his right. “I’ve named that one Harper.”After merely a second, Bellamy points to the star next to it. “Then this one should be called Monty.”For the next two hours, they continue like that. They name the stars after their dead friends: Jasper, Wells, Monroe, Fox, Sterling, Finn, and so many more. 96 actually. That’s how many of their original people — The 100 — are gone; most of them not buried properly, their deaths agonizing and pointless.(a.k.a: the one where Bellamy and Clarke lead again, andactuallyget to talk...)





	Go Home (Your Heart's Too Loud)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song 'seen enough' by dryer, which i listened to about a million times while writing this. it gave me so many feels i could hardly type :')
> 
> dedicated to meg (@cloakedtandy on Tumblr)
> 
> anyway... i don't usually do canon (yikes), but i hope you like this <3

_Once more into the crowd_

_Temptation wears you out_

_Go home, your heart’s too loud_

_Always alone…_

 

The new planet is beautiful.

But not in the way that they’re used to: this place redefines the word, takes it and shapes it to fit what they’re seeing right now: Glistening forests of vibrant colors that are almost hard on the eyes, cobalt seas, which stretch farther and wider than they can see; everything looks untouched, undamaged by human activity. 

This raises the question: _The Eligius III people, are they all gone by now…_

_… Or did they simply treat their world better than they have theirs?_

Clarke’s eyes find Bellamy’s, and they both look back at Jordan.

No, they still haven’t fully grasped that he’s their friends’ son, their _child_ who was born on a space ship and has never seen a planet. As expected, the young man appears awestruck; his jaw slacked while his eyes can’t seem to decide where to settle. After sharing a quick glance with Clarke, who nods at him, Bellamy walks to Jordan, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to explore this place. But first we need to find out how we survive here.” 

 _Survival._  

Even though Clarke knows he’s right, she wants to live in a world without enemies lurking in every corner and threats casting their everlasting shadow on her happiness — and Madi’s. Nevertheless, buried deep within her beating heart is a spark of hope carried on from their friends… They died for this.

_That has to mean something._

Tears well up in her eyes, prompting Bellamy to return to her side. Without looking at him, she mutters, “This better be worth it. Or else they died in vain.” 

For a split second, sadness bores its way into Bellamy’s features, his earthy eyes connecting with the ocean in hers before he finally collects himself, taking a breath and adjusting the pack on his shoulder. “We have enough algae to feed the three of us for two days. It’s not a lot of time, but at least it’s something. If this takes longer than expected, we’ll go back to the ship to get more.”

As they start to walk, Jordan trails behind, taking it all in: He’s inhaling every scent and admiring every color. You can’t blame him for it, even though they have no idea if this place is safe. Leaning over, Bellamy whispers, “We’re definitely not letting him out of our sight.”

 _We. Our._ When he says that, Clarke’s heart does a weird flip, or a swell. “We’ll protect him like our own.”

 _Shit,_ that’s a poor choice of words, and Bellamy falters at it, so she hurries to clarify, “Our people. He’s one of us now.”

“Yeah.”

One thing worth noting about this foreign planet is that it has more water than Earth. Beneath their boots, the green mossy ground is soggy but fresh, its scent intoxicating. For the first few miles, they don’t see anything but water, actually. 

Until slowly, the land grows drier… 

Bushes appear before their eyes, and then trees. 

“With two suns, it’s difficult to imagine what kind of plantation we’ll encounter here. Let’s pray that we can eat some of it.” 

Maybe if Monty had been alive right now, he would’ve been able to help them. Every time Clarke glances back at Jordan, her heart stings because his parents aren’t here to witness this miracle with him. She can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to wake up from cryo and realize that his only family was gone…

Well, at least he’ll be a part of theirs now.

He’s not alone anymore.

Clarke sneaks a peek at Bellamy next to her, thinking, _none of us are._

If they are going to fulfill Monty’s dying wish, they have to stick together and stay on the same side. Otherwise they’ll never survive in uncharted territory, but how do you turn two groups that hate each other, that were at war the last time they saw one another, into a united force? 

“We need to talk,” she says to Bellamy. “Madi can’t lead anymore. She’s a kid. She’s _my_ kid.”

Suddenly, he steps in front of her, blocking the path ahead. Before he can open his mouth, she insists, “This isn’t war. There’s no need for a commander—“ 

“I know…” he sighs, “Don’t you think there’s a reason why Monty and Harper wanted us to see the message first? _We_ are gonna have to step up, Clarke.”

_Together._

Despite the emotions that flood from her heart, spilling in her ribcage, Clarke can’t help but wonder if he’s only proposing a co-leadership between the two of them because it’s what their friends wanted — if he doesn’t actually _want_ to work with her. Following everything that she’s done, all of the mistakes that she’s made, she can’t blame him, but it still stings. 

“I think I see berries!” Jordan exclaims when he has walked past them. “Oh my god… _Berries._ ”

After eating nothing but algae in twenty-six years, berries are certainly something to be excited about, and Bellamy cracks a small smile at the sight of Jordan’s happiness. Brushing past him, Clarke joins the young man by the bushes, which are full of small violet berries. “I haven’t seen any berry like this before,” she concludes, furrowing her brow. “I don’t know if they’re edible.” 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Bellamy says as he kneels down, picking a potentially poisonous berry off the bush like it’s no big deal. Immediately, Clarke places her hand above his, preventing him from putting it in his mouth.

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

“There’s no other way, Clarke!” 

Jordan stares at the two of them. “You’re really gonna sit there and fight over potentially poisoning yourselves? Without you, this plan doesn’t work. Let’s just not eat anything until we’ve learned more about this planet.” 

At that, a dizzying thought hits Clarke: _If they never encounter civilization, they’ll have to take hazardous risks to get wiser._

They need to find Eligius III. 

“Jordan’s right. Let’s walk, see if we find someone or something that can help us,” Clarke decides, standing up. “We need to try and find fresh water, too.”

Before she can turn around, Bellamy grabs her elbow, making her face him. Vaguely, she remembers him doing this after their food had been burned by Grounders during their first year on Earth. Determined, she meets his gaze, frowning. “Are you with us or not?”

“It’s a suicide mission. But we don’t have a choice, do we?” 

She also _vividly_ recollects being alone on Earth, dying of thirst and walking through the desert for days until she finally collapsed on the ground and held a loaded gun to her temple. At the memory, her lower lip wobbles and her eyes close, pain searing in her chest. When she looks at Bellamy again, his eyes have lost their light to worry.

“No… we don’t.”

 

* * *

 

The days on this planet are longer, the daylight seeming eternal. Maybe it’s because of the two suns. They’ve been walking for hours in silence when they finally discover a source of fresh water, a decent-sized spring surrounded by a collection of trees. They look like pine trees but smell much sweeter, like honeydew.

“This would be the perfect place to set up a camp.” 

“You think we can fit everybody in here?” Clarke asks, prompting Bellamy to nod slowly.

“At least temporarily.” 

While Bellamy and Clarke go through the clearing, discussing how they’re going to expand it by using the tools from the Eligius ship to chop down some trees, Jordan touches the rough bark of the trunks and looks at the flowers. Every once in a while, they can hear him mumble about how much his parents would’ve loved to see this, which makes Clarke want to sit down on the ground and sob for hours, but they don’t have that kind of time…

“We can use the wood from the tree trunks for construction or bonfires… Clarke, are you listening?” his brow furrowed, Bellamy glances at her, but she doesn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so she averts her gaze to her feet. Nevertheless, this only makes him step closer.

He places an arm around her shoulders, drawing her towards him just like he did the first time that they looked at the planet together. “I know this is difficult, but we need to do it.”

Taking a shaky breath, Clarke pulls herself together. “Who are we going to wake up first?” 

“Raven, definitely. Maybe Zeke and Emori. Your mom? We need to be prepared for Kane and Murphy’s surgeries,” with those words, Bellamy runs a palm across his face, rubs soothingly at her shoulder with his thumb, and she doesn’t think he even registers that he’s doing it, because maybe — just maybe — it gives him comfort, too.

“How many tents do we have on the ship?” 

Bellamy sighs, “A couple big ones, I think, which isn’t enough to house us, but I think we should use them as medical centers. We can sleep on the ship until the camp is constructed.”

When he’s said that, Clarke manages a small smile to her own surprise. “As long as we’re not going back into cryo.” 

Eventually they sit down in the tall grass, memorizing the feel of it between their fingertips as they talk about ‘doing better here’. They agree that an election is the best, most democratic way of choosing leadership, but until they’re ready to hold one, _they_ will be taking charge. 

“Madi _can’t_ be elected.”

Bellamy blinks, frowning. “I know, Clarke. She’s a child.”

“And yet, you let her march into war.”

As soon as the accusation has passed her lips, she regrets letting it emerge, because while it’s true she knows that she gave Madi permission herself, if only to save his life. Therefore, she rushes, “I’m sorry… I’m very tired.”

This prompts one of Bellamy’s weird jokes. “How can you be? You just slept for 125 years.”

Of course, he knows that it’s not the natural, sleep-deprived exhaustion that’s wearing on her bones — it’s something completely different that’s harder to handle, but he’s only trying to make her laugh, and _it works._

Though for no more than a moment or two… 

“Clarke… the election.” 

“What about it?”

He shrugs, offering her a tiny smile as he admits, “I don’t want to run for leadership without you.”

Obviously, she can’t believe her own ears. Technically, 125 years have passed since she made the biggest mistake of her life by leaving him in Polis, but it feels like an hour. _Is he really going to forgive her just like that?_ Her heart swells, overcome with relief and… affection. Still, the man in front of her isn’t hers, and she knows that, which makes it even more difficult to grasp that _she_ is the person that he wants as a co-leader.

But she doesn’t express any of this confusion. Instead, she places her fingertips to his knees and returns his warm smile. “You don’t have to… I’ll run with you.” 

It’s what they talked about earlier after all. _They_ are going to step up and take the reins. 

For Harper and Monty…

 

* * *

 

 

Exploring the nearby areas of land takes longer than expected. Using paper and charcoal from the ship, Clarke sketches every new plant and flower that they come across; Bellamy puts a sample in his backpack. They hope that they’ll eventually find something that they know from Earth, but so far everything that they have discovered bears no resemblance. 

The flowers here are much more vibrant in color, their scent stronger, which could indicate that they can be used for medicinal purposes, yet Clarke can’t be sure. In the end, they wake up Raven, Zeke, Abby and Emori after a week, play them the message that Harper and Monty made.

Hearing it again hurts just as much as the first time. 

Without the pills, Abby’s struggles are evident, but she determines that the roots that Jordan found one afternoon are eatable. _Smart like his father._  

Another week passes; no emotions are let out besides quiet statements like: “ _I can’t believe they’re truly gone,”_ and _“We have to honor them…”_ Because of this, when they finally think it’s time to wake everybody up, Bellamy’s breathing is as ragged as Clarke’s, struggling under the heavy weight of grief.

So she pulls him in for a hug.

He sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around her before he whispers, “Should I do the talking?”

“You were always better at it than me.” 

During their first year on the ground, it was his speeches that motivated their people to do anything at all; he was the passionate leader who could convince everyone to follow him just by using strong words. She remembers telling him that he couldn’t stay behind, that the delinquents had been ready to fight and die for him. Now, there’s no need for that…

… But after 125 years in cryo, they could all use some inspiration.

Some _hope._

When everyone — except Murphy and Kane — has wakened, Bellamy and Clarke call them to the bridge. After sharing a look with her, Bellamy steps into the middle of the circle that has been unconsciously formed, and she follows him. 

“All right, listen up!” he calls out, catching everyone’s attention, even the most opposing members of the Eligius crew. “As some of you might have figured, our original plan didn’t work. Earth is gone. It’s as dead as we left it, and we have been asleep for _125_ years. Not just 10.”

That causes mumbling to rise in the crowd. Budding in, Clarke shouts, “Shut it! This is important.” 

Luckily, her sharp order has silence settling in the room, allowing her partner to speak again, and he nods at her in silent thanks before doing so. “The only reason why we’re here, why we even have a chance to survive, is because two people—” for a moment, he trails off, forced to gather himself, “Monty Green and Harper McIntyre _died_ to get us here. We’ve explored the planet enough to know that we can survive there, but we must do what _they_ wanted… We have to honor them!”

In support, Clarke places her hand on his back as he turns his head down, swallowing hard. Despite knowing that rhetoric isn’t her strong side, she still continues to take the burden off him, “We’ve found a clearing with fresh water and enough room for all of us, but for the time being — until we have established a proper camp — we will be sleeping on the ship!”

After taking a breath, Bellamy adds, “And until a formal election can take place, Clarke and I will be in charge of the construction work and the settling. Every decision has to go through _us_.”

Another voice rises in the crowd, and even though Clarke can’t see her face, she knows it belongs to Echo. “Why does it have to be the two of you?”

At that question, Jordan steps forward, determined to shut it down immediately. “Because that’s the way my mom and dad wanted it.” 

Although she’s not sure whether her leadership with Bellamy would be the absolute best in this situation, Clarke does feel a lot safer when she can talk things out with him, and he always keeps her going, pushing her to carry on though it might seem impossible. She _needs_ him.

They need each other. And their friends knew that…

 

* * *

 

When Kane is finally stabilized, they have spent the whole day in surgery (Bellamy and she tried to count the hours of a day on this planet — it’s 36.) 

But once both of the suns have finally set, it takes eleven hours for the daylight to come through the clouds again. The smallest sun rises first, its weak rays barely bringing enough brightness to wake them from sleep.

Walking out of the medical tent, exhaustion is making Clarke want to sit down and fall asleep like that… but then she hears them. Bellamy and Echo.

_Arguing._

They’re standing by one of the trees that have been marked with a red cross (it’s to be chopped down soon to make room for construction), far enough that they won’t notice her, and yet she can still hear every word they’re saying. One thing worth noting about Bellamy is that his anger is like thunder, roaring.

When he yells, it’s obvious that his patience is running short, “I already _told_ you! Monty and Harper wanted to wake us up first so that we could decide whether this new planet was even survivable. It has nothing to do with you—“

Funnily enough it doesn’t fully occur to Clarke that they’re talking about _her_ before Echo hisses in response, “It has everything to do with me! It took you, what, three years to forgive me, but Clarke… she leaves you to die and you forgive her after two minutes? That seems a little weird to me, almost as if you’re—” she cuts herself off, expression blazing even from a distance.

There’s a long pause because Bellamy’s too incredulous to say anything. “… Are you accusing me of _cheating_?”

Even after that, Echo does nothing to reassure him. Instead, she simply turns up her chin, and Bellamy stares at her for a few seconds, still in disbelief, before deciding to walk away.

To ensure that he won’t see her, Clarke starts walking, too — in the opposite direction for a few miles until she finds a longer stream. Somehow, though, he still ends up finding her. Not quite daring to meet his gaze, Clarke looks straight ahead as he sits down beside her.

“The stars are different here,” he sighs once a few minutes have passed in silence, and she nods, finally looking at him as she manages a smile. 

Clarke points towards the night sky, to a very bright yet seemingly small star to his right. “I’ve named that one _Harper._ ”

After merely a second, Bellamy points to the star next to it. “Then this one should be called _Monty._ ”

For the next two hours, they continue like that. They name the stars after their dead friends: _Jasper, Wells, Monroe, Fox, Sterling, Finn,_ and so many more _._ 96 actually. That’s how many of their original people — The 100 — are gone; most of them not buried properly, their deaths agonizing and pointless. At the end, Clarke’s head rests on Bellamy’s shoulder, which might be overstepping considering the fight that he just had with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move away. Instead, he places his hand on top of hers in the soft grass.

“Just because we left the planet doesn’t mean we have to leave _them_ there, too.”

Her lower lip wobbles, tears spilling from her blue eyes, because the truth is that no one will ever understand what she went through during those first few months on the ground… except him. During that terrifying time, Bellamy shared the burden with her, carried half of the weight, and she knows that he feels just as responsible for what happened to those kids as she does.

Even though 132 years have passed, they haven’t forgotten them. 

Suddenly, Bellamy takes a trembling breath and pulls something out of his pocket: a small flask. “The last of Monty and Jasper’s moonshine,” he tells her. “It should be emptied with a toast to them.” 

Smiling weakly, he offers her the first swig. “To _The 100._ ”

“To _The 100._ ”

Together, they drink and stargaze until time melts away and their surroundings become a blur, and for the first time — knowing that it’s selfish — she wishes that they could run away, that they could disappear.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand. Why can’t _I_ lead them?” Madi argues while Clarke is trying to braid her hair. Since the Flame was placed in her head, her personality has changed, as much as it hurts to realize. Like the rest of the commanders, Madi has been filled with an undying sense of duty to the people that are and will never be her responsibility; she wants justice and power even though she is too young to understand any of that.

“Because you’re a child.” 

“But—“ Madi tries, failing to see just how unrelenting that Clarke is. 

“Enough! You might be the commander, but there’s no war to fight. You should enjoy being a kid while you are one instead of worrying about politics. I am _not_ placing the legacy of my dead friends into the hands of a twelve year old.” 

With that, she gets to her feet, shooting a last strong-willed look in her daughter’s direction before leaving her by the bonfire. Luckily, Jordan comes sweeping in with a smile on his face ( _kind like his mother_ ) and a small bouquet of vermilion flowers for Madi. “Here you go, cousin,” she hears him chuckle, and when she looks back to catch a glimpse of them, Madi is grinning at him. 

She finds Bellamy alone in the first building that they’ve finished constructing: the conference hall. As soon as everyone had properly explored the clearing, Bellamy and Clarke put them to work, which so far is going beyond everyone’s imagination. Still too weak to do heavy duty, Kane oversees the construction and ensures that every project goes according to plan. 

“Tomorrow’s the election,” he murmurs without looking at her, bent over a makeshift table in the middle of the room, which is made out of metal crates from the ship. “You ready?”

“I just had a fight with Madi over it. She thinks that she’ll be second-in-command if I get elected, but I told her that I’m running with you. Not a kid.”

When he nods, she steps close enough to count the bronze freckles that are dusted across his cheeks. In order to prevent herself from doing just that, she listens very intently when he speaks, “I think Indra should be our second-in-command. If we’re elected.”

Well, that’s very reasonable. Although she lived in the bunker, she seems to be the sanest out of all of Octavia’s people, and as a former war chief she knows how to lead large groups of people. In agreement, Clarke nods slowly then proceeds to stare at the same blank wall as he is. “Are you alright?”

It’s an unnecessary question to ask, because the frustrated expression on his face confirms every concern that she has for him. Exhaling, Bellamy meets her eyes for a moment, worrying his lower lip. “My relationship just ended.”

That statement lands on Clarke, causing a million confusing thoughts to tangle themselves in her mind until she can’t make sense of any of them. Because of this, all that she can do is wait, her hand hovering in hesitation by his shoulder. For a moment, she can’t decide whether he wants the comfort, especially from her, but in the end she decides to take the risk. 

Bellamy releases a deep sigh as soon as she touches him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” 

At those words, his jaw clenches and he looks at her, his dark brown eyes certain as they hold hers, their intensity almost startling her; she has never seen him quite like this before. For a moment, she lets herself be scared over the possibility that he may be angry with her.

But then he speaks, his voice definite, “I’m not.” 

Clarke blinks, aware that her lips are parting in disbelief. No matter how long she searches for a proper response to a statement like that, she comes up empty-handed, silenced by her own roaring wonder. _What does it mean?_  

As expected, Bellamy doesn’t say anything more than that, but when they’re elected co-leaders the next day, having won the vote by a landslide, Echo stays away from the celebrations, and suddenly… everything starts to make more sense. No explanation is needed, even though Clarke still finds the truth hard to believe. _How could Echo possibly be jealous?_

“We need to do things differently… law-enforcement wise.” 

Nodding, Clarke remembers leading on the ground and being faced with a group of teenagers who wanted Murphy strung up in a tree without a trial. To avoid this, Bellamy proposes that they take inspiration from the democracy in ancient Greece.

“So we should have a jury. The members of it alternate at every trial. How many?”

Bellamy looks up from the paper for a moment. “Well, we’re about 400 people here, so let’s say… 10 percent? 40 members of the jury.”

“That’s too many. They won’t come to agreement. 5 percent? 20 members.”

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. It’s already been a few weeks since they were elected as leaders, and so far they’ve been focused on building the camp, which is coming along nicely — or at least, nicer than they expected — but they’ve realized that they need to establish a court system; one, which _works…_

… And is as peaceful as possible. With Monty and Harper’s dream for peace in mind, Bellamy and Clarke decide to rule out the death penalty, making banishment the worst possible punishment. For committing minor offenses like stealing, people will get an extra workload. They also form a council, because they’re aware that leading entirely on their own will do nothing except create a new form of tyranny.

“Indra, Kane, Abby, Raven, Diyoza and… my sister have been all been elected.” 

Clarke worries her lower lip. “Ultimately, the decision is ours.”

“If my sister comes to power—“

At that, she shakes her head vigorously, brushes her fingertips across the palm of his hand in reassurance, “She won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

In the conference room, they have built a nook for people to rest during long meetings, and since this is one of those nights, Bellamy lies down on the blanket-covered hardwood, staring at the ceiling. They’ve been discussing this for hours, the exhaustion searing and unforgiving in their bones. Exhaling, Bellamy admits what they’re both thinking right now, “This feels like The Ark all over again. Council my ass,” he huffs.

Not caring about the limited space, Clarke lies down beside him, their limbs touching in the dim light that’s provided by lanterns. “At least we won’t be floating people for stealing medicine.”

Since it’s nighttime, most of their people have retired to bed, either in the ship or the large tents, but Bellamy and Clarke, burdened by the weight of responsibility, haven’t closed their eyes in two days. Instead — somehow — they find their way to the calm stream by which they sat and named the shining stars after kids who died too young. In the trees surrounding it, bugs dance, reminding her of lightning bugs, but their glow isn’t yellow. It’s _turquoise…_

“The fruit over there in the tree… I think they look a lot like peaches.”

Without thinking, Bellamy stands to pick one, and he’s right. Still, the mere fact that they resemble an edible fruit from Earth doesn’t mean that it’s not deadly. Looking at it in his palm, Clarke’s more intrigued by how sweet it smells, incredibly tempting, and when she looks at Bellamy she sees sparks in his eyes for the first time in what feels like a century.

 _Oh…_ That’s because it _has_ been a century.

“Should we?”

She doesn’t think he’s going to do it, so when he lifts the mysterious fruit to his mouth and takes a bite, all she can do is gasp ‘ _No_ ’, grasping onto his wrist in desperation. For a moment, she wants to scream at him: ‘ _How could you do this to me?! You know I can’t do this without you!’_ but then she remembers what Monty said about happiness…

… That’s what he’s chasing. Nothing more. Clarke can’t blame him for wanting to lose some of the worry that has been tearing them apart from the inside since they landed on Earth _132_ years ago. 

“Let me have a bite,” she hears herself whisper. 

Their faces are so close, and she can barely breathe. Still holding onto his wrist, Clarke watches Bellamy intensely as he turns the fruit in his hand, exposing the uneaten side to her. Upon a moment of hesitation, she sinks her teeth into it, humming as the sweet flavor explodes in her mouth like a bomb and spills onto her uncultured taste buds.

His eyes crinkling at the corners, Bellamy chuckles — _Actually chuckles,_ “It’s delicious, right?” 

And juicy… It’s clear that he isn’t thinking when he dries some of it off her chin with his thumb, their eyes connecting as he touches her. In that moment, she wants nothing more than to drown in his dark brown eyes, crawl into his lap and kiss him senseless until she’s heaving for breath. 

But there’s an invisible barrier between them, its brinks made from an eternity of suppressed pain. The realization that she can’t break through it is like a knife to her heart, and as happy as she felt two seconds ago, she feels the sobs press against the inside of her throat now. 

“Clarke…” he mutters, suddenly cupping her cheek. “What can I do?” 

At that question, she has to blink the tears that cling to her eyelashes away, her lower lip wobbling as she leans into his warm hand. “… What?” 

The next thing he says shakes her entire world. “To make you happy. I— I want to make you happy.” 

That’s all it takes: a sob tears loose from Clarke’s throat, her lips stinging with the desire to be on his as her heart swells and breaks at the same time, which is hardly possible. But knowing everything about the inexplicable effect that he can have on her, Clarke doesn’t try to explain it. She can’t believe his confession, doesn’t understand it despite the simplicity of the words.

“ _Please…_ ” he’s begging, leaning his forehead against hers, and yet she shakes her head.

“I can’t ask for that.” 

As Bellamy pulls her into his lap, cradling her small frame, his response is a murmur against her wet cheek, “Then don’t,” Like that, he holds her in his arms while she cries waterfalls, wondering what she did to deserve him. If there’s anything that she’s learned from her time on the ground it is that sadness loves company — and that company is _always_ guilt.

“I slapped you.”

She’s _disgusted_ with herself. For good reason… Because _damn it,_ he’s the best person that she has ever known. Staring at him through the tears that are still making her vision blurry, she reaches out to press her fingertips to the cheek that withstood her assault. It might not be as bad as that, but it’s the way she sees it. 

“It’s okay—“ 

Desperation rises in her chest. “ _No!_ ”

Without giving him time to process that, she leans in, kissing his cheek repeatedly as if that could ever make up for it. Breathing hotly against her neck, Bellamy holds her tighter before finally concurring, “Alright. It wasn’t okay. But the important thing is that we are, huh? We’re okay…” 

She sniffles, still caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Yeah?” 

When he nods, smiling to reassure her, tears spill from her eyes again, but this time they’re full of _relief…_

 

* * *

 

For the past two weeks, Raven and Zeke have been working on turning a drone and a camera into a useful contraption that can be used to discover whether there are other people anywhere nearby. Meanwhile, small cabins with no isolation are slowly coming together, and Jordan is teaching Madi to play soccer. 

The fruit by the stream didn’t kill them, so now there’s a whole bowl full at the table while they discuss politics. “Should we try to fish?” 

“With what? Our bare hands?” 

At that, she rolls her eyes. “With nets and baskets. We could make them out of the shit ton of rope left on the ship.” 

Then he smiles, wider than she remembers seeing it in a long time. The sight pulls at her heartstrings, but in a good way, making it beat a little faster against her ribcage. “Good idea. We’ll get a team onto it.” 

For a while everything seems to go rather smoothly, but their time on Earth has more than reminded them that there always is a calm before the storm. After two months on the new planet, Bellamy and Clarke are forced to try out their trial system when one member of Eligius tries to kill another with a knife during construction work. 

The witnesses — among them Emori, Octavia and Miller — offer their statements, the limited evidence (a bloody knife) is presented to the jury. When the 20 members empty out of the conference room to debate, Bellamy and Clarke share a nervous look. It might be mayhem in there soon, it might take days for them to convict, and how in Hell are they going to deal with that situation?

But the jury returns after an hour with a clear verdict of ‘GUILTY’.

On the basis of this verdict, the convicted man is sentenced to _banishment_ and thrown out of the camp the next afternoon. As expected, Diyoza is _livid._ Disrupting their moment of rare rest, she bursts into the conference room, her brown eyes full of lightning. 

“You can’t just—“ 

“Of course we can. The people here agreed on a law…” 

Clarke nods at her co-leader, rubbing her temples. “And that law has been followed as justly as possible. Your man tried to kill someone. We… We can’t ensure peace if we let an offense like that slide.”

Actually, it’s nothing short of baffling how well everyone has taken to the establishment of a peaceful society. After fighting wars for years, you’d figure that peace would be more difficult to accept, almost as if it’s a nice concept rather than an achievable state. Every day, people surprise them, making Bellamy and Clarke realize that perhaps all that was needed was for someone to make _peace_ seem possible. Hell, even Octavia has been surprisingly calm about this whole thing, even though losing the election temporarily angered her.

Nonetheless, Diyoza hasn’t finished complaining, “There was only eight members of Eligius in the jury that day. In what world is that a fair representation?”

Unfaltering, Bellamy turns his chin up, steps closer until Clarke puts a hand on his arm. “In a world, in which the jury is in complete _agreement_ over the verdict. The Eligius crew members decided that he was guilty, too.”

“Tell me why the two of you were elected again?” 

At that, Clarke can’t help but smile smugly, her hand still around Bellamy’s bicep. Somehow, touching him empowers her, makes her feel more confident than she remembers being in a long time. “Because people wouldn’t vote for a member of the people who destroyed the last survivable land on Earth. No one here agreed with McCreary’s decision. Neither did you, may I remind you.”

To their enormous relief, that lecture seems to silence her, and she leaves moments after. Exhaling, Bellamy pulls Clarke close without warning, his breath sweet from the fruits; it tingles her sensitive skin. When he speaks, his words are laced with something that she can’t identify, his voice low and intent, “So what do you say, you and I—“ 

Before he can finish his sentence, before Clarke has figured out what he’s going to propose, Madi comes running through the door, the radiant smile on her face stretching the corners of her lips far apart. “Clarke! Bellamy! I won against Jordan!”

Just as his name passes Madi’s lips, he comes trailing after her, his smile as big as hers, carrying a football under his arm. “She beat me. What can I say? Your girl’s got some talent.” 

It hits Clarke like a ton of bricks. The way Jordan says ‘your’ while looking at both of them, not just her. As if she’s… _theirs._ Their daughter that they raised like his parents raised him, and while she occasionally ( _more_ than occasionally) finds herself wishing that it were true, it isn’t. Still, it doesn’t seem as though Bellamy has been affected by the words at all, because he simply beams at Madi and Jordan.

“Is it okay if we stay here for a while? It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

Clarke smiles. “Yeah, stay as long as you like.” 

From the nook, Bellamy and Clarke watch the two pseudo-cousins who are sitting by the makeshift fireplace that Raven and Shaw carved out of stone just a few days ago. Together, they warm their hands and laugh at quiet jokes.

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen her be a kid, huh?” 

Then Clarke gazes at him, the corners of her mouth curving a little upwards. “Yeah.”

For the next few minutes, they sit there in silence, and she listens to the low yet comforting sound of his fingertips drumming against his knee. Before she’s even had the time to process the question by the gateway to her lips, Clarke has let it emerge, “Do you want kids?” 

Bellamy meets her eyes, his expression dulled by sadness, “I used to. Now, well— I feel like I wouldn’t be a good father.” he looks at Jordan, a splitting image of his parents, his dad especially. “Not good enough anyway.”

Not allowing herself to think too much about it, Clarke takes his hand, trailing her fingertips over the callouses of his palm. Aware of the emotion, the _fondness_ that’s rising in her throat, she speaks nonetheless, “You’d make a wonderful father.” 

At least she thinks so, and judging by the way his eyes soften, that matters to him. With a light touch to his knee, Clarke gets up, ready to go to the ship, but he grasps her hand. “Come with me to the stream?” 

Her heart flutters in her chest when she turns to look at him, and even though she should probably say no, feeling extremely tired, the answer just won’t pass her lips. Instead, she finds herself nodding.

Somehow, over the last couple of months, this stream has become _their_ place. At least in the sense that this is where they usually go to have a moment of peace, to listen to calming sound of water running. Above them, the stars shine in memory of those they lost…

“Miller told me that they’ve almost finished the first three fishing nets and baskets,” Bellamy murmurs, throwing a fruit in her direction as if they haven’t eaten enough today. It makes her smile. 

“I thought we agreed to avoid discussing leadership when we’re here.”

Running a hand through his hair, he looks at her for a moment and chuckles almost… _nervously._ When he doesn’t say anything, she narrows her eyes a little, her lips parting. 

“Why did you bring me out here, Bellamy?” 

Honestly, she just figured that he wanted to talk about something deeper than the need for makeshift finishing nets and improving the medical care in the camp. Lately, that’s filled their heads, leaving no room for anything else.

That’s why it startles her when he admits, “I know about the radio calls, Clarke. Madi told me before we went into cryo.”

As soon as he’s said it, the realization strikes her like lightning, leaving her numb until she manages to shake herself out of it to ask, “… Is that why you forgave me?” 

“Yes and no. You leaving me in Polis, well… I have to be honest, it made me feel like you didn’t care about me anymore, but then Madi dropped that bomb on me, and I realized that you might have felt isolated. By the others and me… and I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m so sorry.”

He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it. Gazing into his brown eyes again, she is drawn to him, hit by a strong desire to sit in his lap — just like she did a week ago when he held her, but this is different. This isn’t him comforting her. She doesn’t know what this is…

“Why’d you call me for so long? Why didn’t you stop?” 

Clarke swallows, having to avert her eyes. “You gave me hope.”

Before she met Madi, the thought — the _dream_ — of seeing him again one day was the only thing keeping her alive. Sometimes, she’d imagine his voice, struggling to remember the sound of it as she pictured him talking back to her. Without warning, the devastating memories flooding her brain cause tears to well up in her eyes, so she blinks rapidly to chase them away. But it’s no use. Distraught, she looks up, her lower lip trembling. “Say something… _please._ ”

She wants to hear him speak, doesn’t want to go through the terrible pain of forgetting his voice ever again. Instead of doing as she asks right away, Bellamy pulls her closer until their foreheads touch. Then he cradles her face, his fingertips warm and soothing against her cheeks. “I love you.” 

_What?_

Even though she’s too shaken to respond, that doesn’t stop Bellamy. If anything, having confessed it once only seems to fuel him. “I love you so much.” 

Because half of her brain refuses to believe that this moment is anything but a _wonderful_ dream, Clarke catches herself shaking her head in denial. She has lost nearly everything. _What happens if there’s nothing left for him — what if she can’t give anything to him?_

Apparently unbothered by her lack of response, Bellamy continues, “On the Ring, what I felt for you didn’t matter, because… you were _dead,_ Clarke. Me loving you wasn’t going to bring you back. There was nothing I could do.” 

When she starts to sob, he keeps her anchored against him, his nose buried in her hair. “Putting the Flame in Madi’s head, breaking the promise I made to you… it must’ve felt like I didn’t care, and—“

Clarke pulls back. The tears are spilling down her cheeks mercilessly, her eyes refilling as soon as they seem to dry out. Breathing feels like a knife to the chest, the pieces of her shattered heart rattling in her ribcage. “You had your new family. I wasn’t… I didn’t matter anymore.”

His eyes soften. “That’s not true. You know what? You died for me. I _lived_ for you.”

Once he’s said those words, something odd strikes her, and although it feels like courage it must be much stronger, because she needs more than that to kiss him.

And that’s exactly what she does…

Clarke’s lips are desperate to the point of indelicacy until Bellamy breaks away, drying the last sadness off her cheeks. “Hey. You got me, all right? Live _with_ me, Clarke.” This time, his lips capture hers, setting the pace that’s somehow passionate and patient at the same time. Kissing him is like experiencing something wondrous, if you ever witnessed Aurora Borealis, then you know how _beautiful_ it is to kiss Bellamy Blake.

There’s hardly anything else to compare it to.

Because she doesn’t want to stop, she lets her lips travel to his throat when they break apart for air. After a minute of exploring, Clarke discovers a sensitive point right next to his Adam’s apple that — when she kisses it — makes his breathing quicken. Perhaps to regain control, Bellamy encases her waist and lowers her to the ground, which is damp from the water, but she doesn’t care.

“You tell me you love me… Show me.”

Those words don’t frighten him. If anything, they seem to make him more eager. Without responding, Bellamy removes her jacket and black tank top, so that her chest is exposed to him, the chilly breeze brushing across her naked skin.

Sitting up slightly, Clarke helps him pull his shirt off, then brings his body down with hers, and as their limbs intertwine, their breaths mingle in the starry night. “I love you, too,” Clarke murmurs against his shoulder, the words half prayer.

When she touches his bare back, she feels the weight of the galaxies that he carries, tries to think of reasons why a burdened man would ever love someone as broken as her.

Except to Bellamy, she isn’t broken at all. She is a woman of strength and magic, of fire and ice colliding. To him, she will always be worth loving, because she is someone who has sacrificed everything for others and still expects nothing in return. 

While he enters her, the universe speaks:

 

_“Let me show you how heroes fall,_

_Together,_

_In love…”_  

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love nothing more than to hear all of your thoughts <3 comments and kudos are like warm hugs!


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